When I was the train to London yesterday I thought I was in for a spectacular afternoon of culture followed by a fine dinner with friends. I have seen the Royal Albert Hall on TV dozens of times but never really given any thought to what it is really like inside. Making my way through the tube I made it with time to spare. Little did I know I was in for an afternoon of sheer terror. Climbing the stairs there was no feeling of impending doom. That all changed as I emerged into the seating area on the 3rd tier. Before me a sheer drop. Very steep banks of seats looked top heavy and so exposed. Fighting my way through those already seated I was already sweating, dizzy, and heart racing. It is not a place for people with a fear of heights.
I barely moved a muscle for the next 2 1/2 hours. I was simply too terrified. At the interval I stayed put and dared not look down. But gradual my body and mind slowed down. Soothed by sublime music I made it through without running. And what music. The exception was the Verdi where they had not done the balance check well as I could barely hear the soprano about the orchestra. With the Tchaikovsky I heard her at here best-brilliant.
The descent at the end was terrifying but I had made it.. What followed was a splendid evening of food and drink with Katherine and Sonya. We also had surprise visitor, another of our teaching friends Antony. A splendid day.
As I sit peacefully on this Sunday afternoon, Mozart plays quietly, the pork is slow roasting and I'm doing very little. There is 1 week to go at work. Then I'm off. This time in 2 weeks I will be in the heat of Spain. Finally a holiday after a 7 year gap. I very much need it. Recharge then back into the fray in a month. Who knows what dark, trying, or divine moments lie ahead next year. What I do know is I'm in a much better place now than I was last year. Long may that last.
I Heard a Voice.
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